


Something Not Human

by RumRollins (GreyStained)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood and Gore, Demonic Possession, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:04:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyStained/pseuds/RumRollins
Summary: Jack comes face to face with the beginnings of Hydra's best and darkest.





	Something Not Human

**Author's Note:**

> bdrixhaettc wanted a first meeting between Jack and a naked Rumlow covered in blood. Maybe I'll add to this? I dunnosies

The first limb Brock recognizes is Murray’s. Knows it’s his, ‘cuz of the lopsided tattoo on the blood soaked skin of the forearm in his hands. He got it on New Year’s Eve, being young, drunk, and reckless, and it was team bonding to give the guy shit for it.

But his focus pulls out more, and he starts seeing more limbs. More body parts. Heads with the eyes clawed out and torsos with guts trailing behind them. But most of all, he sees the red, and most of all, he hears the screaming, the ringing, the roaring. The sirens and flashing lights.

It takes fourteen darts before he’s unconscious.

——

Brock’s mind was thick when he finally stirred, the first thing coming to him was his breath, then the urge to run. Leather straps inhibited most of both instincts, leaving him to scream until he tasted blood. A cool drip would soon sluggishly fill him, chill him to the bones, give him peace once more.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the straps were gone. His legs, which he expected to be weak and wobbly with disuse, held firm as he took his first tentative step from the table. Besides the bed and the drip formerly attached to his arm(he ripped it out immediately upon noticing it), the room was bleak and empty, smelling dry and sterile. But he knew he wasn’t alone. He stepped up to the wall-spanning mirror, opposite where his bed sat, and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

“Lemme out.”

The only response he received was the lost look in his own bloodshot eyes.

——

They tried feeding him through the slot in the door, but soon switched to drugging him and feeding him through the IV after the food lay untouched for a week. Four guards would move in silently, grabbing hold of each of his limbs. Brock’s howls only fell on deaf ears as the syringe was pressed into his neck.

Once, he woke up not in his bed, but upright, in a cold chair. He was strapped down again, and thrashed wildly as they tried to force the bite guard in his mouth. Then everything was white, crackling, pain, no, NO-

Murray. Phillips. Charlie Company. WRONG.

The Bronx. Home. WRONG.

Brock. WRONG.

Lightning still seared through his veins when he faded back in, heard the words, “……neural patterns stabilizing. Vitals stabilizing. Phase Two of conditioning successful.”

He faded back out.

——

“What the fuck.” The crackle of the comm murmurs in Jack’s ears as he takes in the horror show below the helicopter. He’s hard pressed to put it better himself. His breath is warm in the helmet.

“Enough gawking. Extract the unit so they can get this mess cleaned up.”

Him and four others descend, weapons trained on the man at the center of the carnage. Whatever battle-dress uniform he had on had been all but torn to shreds, red fabric hanging in scraps off his body. And the eyes, fuck, Jack’s never believed in spirits, but something had scooped the man out and shoved itself inside, and he could see that in the dark eyes.

One dart doesn’t make him flinch. Four more and he staggers back. Another nine to finish the job. Jack feels something like bile rising in his throat as he watches the man go down silently.

“Jesus,” someone breathes in the comm, probably Wallace. Jack bites the inside of his cheek.

“Collection, move in. Careful with the goods, he’s SHIELD property.”

——

Being moved to STRIKE should’ve been cause for celebration, even if he was technically demoted down to SIC. SHIELD only put their best into the STRIKE program, and to have infiltrated the organization so deep was something to take immense pride in. But Jack kept hearing rumors about the new Commander. What had happened to his last team. How he was the product of one of SHIELD’s more fucked up experiments. How he signed up for it.

“Commander on deck!”

Without thinking, every one in the room stands at attention, eyes focused forward until curiosity pulled them to the sound of heavy boots. Jack feels the bile rising in his throat again.

“At ease, STRIKE.”

Hazel eyes lock with his. But all Jack sees is the dark behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> poke me @rumrollins


End file.
